


In All Chaos There Is Calculation

by fakesmichael (ColoredGayngels)



Series: 100 Kinks [13]
Category: Garry's Mod, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trouble in Terrorist Town, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Embarrassment, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Guns, Hand Jobs, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColoredGayngels/pseuds/fakesmichael
Summary: Gavin’s eyes flick between the floor and his surroundings as he moves silently through the warehouse. He’s been hearing shots popping off in other rooms the entire round; he knows he’s alone against the traitors at this point. He hasn’t seen any other players and he’s afraid to go looking for them, the bright blue D on his shirt a target. He takes a deep breath and unholsters the golden deagle from its place on his thigh. It’s his only hope when he runs into whoever remains. He releases the magazine, checking to make sure both shiny, gold bullets are in place. He knows his success rate as detective is low. He can’t throw away these shots.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Michael Jones
Series: 100 Kinks [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1077513
Kudos: 5
Collections: Prose From the Abyss





	In All Chaos There Is Calculation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Game Night (Old Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512298) by [Threatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threatie/pseuds/Threatie), [Wrespawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn). 



> TTT AU anyone?  
> Does anyone else know the golden deag's mechanics, or is it just me? Just me? Nice.
> 
> 020\. Weapon Play  
> Title from Glory and Gore by Lorde  
> [100 Kinks Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/coloredgayngels/playlist/0r286gee0z77JnI4RHajr1?si=Cr3NZxWMQ3CjR4goMv2IjA)

Gavin’s eyes flick between the floor and his surroundings as he moves silently through the warehouse. He’s been hearing shots popping off in other rooms the entire round; he knows he’s alone against the traitors at this point. He hasn’t seen any other players and he’s afraid to go looking for them, the bright blue D on his shirt a target. He takes a deep breath and unholsters the golden deagle from its place on his thigh. It’s his only hope when he runs into whoever remains. He releases the magazine, checking to make sure both shiny, gold bullets are in place. He knows his success rate as detective is low. He can’t throw away these shots.

Gun cocked and held close to his chest, Gavin slowly turns the corner into the next room. He swings his arms out, taking aim as it comes into view, and he yelps as the barrel comes into contact with someone’s forehead. He hesitates, nearly lowers his gun, when he recognizes the face. It’s one Michael Jones, a notoriously successful player. Rumor has it he hasn’t lost any lives. Gavin’s not sure that’s true, but the one time they were paired up as traitors, they’d won.

“Jones.”

“Free.” Jones smirks, lowering his own weapon.

Gavin scans the room quickly, noting the lack of bodies. “Give me one good reason not to shoot you.”

Jones pressed his forehead closer to the gun, closer to Gavin himself. “Cuz if you do, you’ll die. You don’t want that now, do you?”

Gavin lowers the deag. 

“Good boy,” Jones says. A shiver runs through Gavin’s body, going straight to his cock. “I haven’t seen anyone else this game, you?”

“N-no, you’re the first.” Jones hums. “D’ya know how many others are still alive?” Gavin asks, trying to focus on the game at hand and not the way Jones is looking at him like he’s a piece of meat.

Jones shakes his head. “No idea.”

The gunshots seem to have died down, but they’re also in a back corner of the map.

“So…” Gavin says.

“So,” Jones replies. “How about you make me your deputy, give me that pretty gun of yours?”

Gavin narrows his eyes. “Why should I trust you?”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Jones takes another step forward, pressing his body Close to Gavin’s. “Maybe I can do some further convincing.” 

Gavin squawks as Jones slides a hand down Gavin’s stomach to cup his half-hard dick. “Bet you haven’t gotten off since you got dropped in here, huh?” Gavin shakes his head. “Shame. You’re such a pretty thing.”

“Jones-"

Jones shushes him, rubbing him through his pants. The stimulation is more than he’s had in what’s had to have been months stuck in this god damn simulation. He moans when Jones squeezes him lightly. “Want me to take care of this for you, Free?”

“Please,” Gavin whimpers, pressing his hips into Jones’s hand. Jones chuckles.

He undoes Gavin’s belt and the fly of trousers, pulling them and his boxers down to free his cock. “Beautiful,” Jones mutters, stroking it a few times. Gavin chokes back a loud noise, not wanting to alert whoever remains aside from them. “That’s it, be good and keep quiet; don’t want us getting killed before we’re good and ready.”

Gavin falls back against the wall, Jones’s words just making him more needy. He’s never thought about fucking during a match and the idea of getting caught and killed is absolutely  _ thrilling. _ “Jones-” he starts again, but Jones interrupts him.

“Michael.”

_ “Michael,”  _ Gavin whines. He thrusts into Michael’s hand, eyes slipping shut, so caught up in himself that he doesn’t notice Michael taking the deag from him. He just throws his hands up to tangle in Michael’s shirt, trying to pull him closer, convince him to let Gavin come.

Michael weighs the difference between the golden deag in his left hand and the dick in his right. Right now, the dick is more important, it’s his incentive to get himself off for the first time in weeks, but the deag? The gun in his hand is his ticket to sweet victory. 

He jacks Gavin off with little finesse, knows the guy’ll take anything in this hellscape, the man holding back soft moans. Michael wants to laugh. He knows Diaz can see them from the second level, is probably getting himself off to this while he waits for Michael’s signal. 

Gavin comes with a low grunt, Michael backing off slightly so his come splatters on the ground between them. He pants, letting himself sink further against the concrete at his back, catching his breath. He releases Michael’s shirt and the second he does, there’s a  _ click _ followed by cool metal against Gavin’s forehead.

Gavin frantically reaches down to the golden deagle’s holster - empty. His eyes fly open to see a blur of gold between them. “Michael-”

“Shut the fuck up.” The gun presses harder against Gavin’s face. Golden deagle or not, one shot at this range and he’s a goner.

He’s a goner either way at this point.

“Knees,” Michael orders and Gavin drops instantly, dick still out and come soaking into the knees of his trousers. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot, Free?” Gavin gulps, deag still aimed between his eyes. “Think I’m gonna risk my life and reputation for a quick fuck with the detective? It’s just you and me, baby, and I think you know what that means.”

“You’re the traitor,” Gavin says in realization.

Michael laughs. “Maybe you’re not so stupid after all.” He opens his belt and pants with his free hand, pulling out his own cock. “Suck.”

Gavin opens his mouth, allowing Michael to thrust in roughly. The tip nudges at the back of his throat, flirting with his sensitive gag reflex, before pulling back out. Michael fucks his face shallowly, eyes and gun trained on Gavin. Gavin keeps his hands smartly on his knees, lets Michael use him like a good little toy. Michael presses in further, rougher, bumping Gavin’s throat again, and he pulls back, spluttering. The empty hand grabs Gavin’s hair, yanking roughly to hold him still. 

“If you move again, I’m blowing your brains out.”

Michael feeds Gavin his cock once more, fucking his throat with reckless abandon. Gavin does his best to adjust, gagging and trying not to vomit, but Michael doesn’t seem to care. He only cares about getting himself off. Gavin’s gaze slides up the barrel of the deag, up Michael’s arm to his cold, brown, unwavering eyes. There’s no friendliness here, none of the camaraderie from the last round they were in together. Gavin has been well and truly abandoned this time.

Michael slams into his mouth a few more times before he pulls out, leaving Gavin to cough and spit on the ground, barely avoiding covering himself in sick, until warm and sticky fluid spurting across his nose and cheeks. He looks up at Michael with wide eyes as his come drips down Gavin’s chin, bracing himself to be killed. Michael gestures at his crotch, signaling Gavin to put him away, so Gavin obeys. He might as well, he’s got nothing left to lose but his life, and that’s been thrown away already, too. With Michael’s pants and belt done up, Gavin drops his hands back to his knees and leans his head to touch the barrel of the gun.

“God, you really are a fucking idiot.” Michael waves his hand in the air.

Gavin doesn’t even have a chance to look around before he hears glass shattering in the distance, his skull shattering inside him, and then nothing as the world goes dark.

Michael rolls his eyes at the corpse in front of him. How fucking embarrassing. He nudges the bloodied, come-stained body of Gavin Free with his foot, scoffing as he drops the golden deag into the small puddle of blood and brain matter. He hears the ‘traitors win’ announcement and sends a thumbs up at Diaz before he’s spawned into his next match.


End file.
